


the truth of survival

by Laylah



Category: Kamen Rider Amazons (2016)
Genre: Comfort Sex, F/F, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7901188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe it's not that odd. Nanaha understands. She's seen the raw, naked hunger that lives underneath the thin skin of civilization. She knows what it really takes to be alive.</p>
<p>[set early in episode 13]</p>
            </blockquote>





	the truth of survival

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many feelings about Izumi Nanaha, underappreciated badass. Here are some of them.

In the aftermath of Operation Tlaloc, Nozomi tries to go back to having a normal life. It's hard. Everything feels fragile and precarious, civilization stretched thinly over a gaping pit of hunger and violence that nobody around her seems to see. She goes back to work at the children's home, even though she doesn't feel like she belongs there anymore, because she needs to do _something_ besides sit in her too-empty apartment and wonder how anyone can possibly live normally in a world where Amazons exist. She has nightmares where one of her coworkers changes, and Nozomi, alone and unarmed, has to try to protect the children from a rampaging Amazon's hungers. She has nightmares where she's the monster, too. She didn't have nightmares when she was still with the team. Maybe she lived them, but she didn't have them.

She sleepwalks through her life as best she can. What else can she do?

When she bumps into a familiar face outside the grocery store one evening, they both do a double take. The woman is the kind of fey, off-beat pretty that always makes Nozomi a little tongue-tied, but it takes a minute for her to figure out where she's seen her before. "That's right," she says when she figures it out. "You're Takayama Jin's woman."

For a second it looks like the woman is going to cry, her lip trembling, but she swallows the emotion and lifts her chin. "That makes me sound like some kind of pet."

"Sorry," Nozomi says. "What's your name?"

Her name is Izumi Nanaha. She doesn't know where Jin has gone. Nozomi doesn't bring up Tlaloc. When Nanaha says, "You can come home with me, if you want," it's a surprise but also a relief; it'd be good to spend a little while around someone who knows what the world is really like.

They don't go straight there. First Nanaha detours to a shop Nozomi had never really noticed before, where she buys a ten-kilo sack of chicken feed. Nozomi offers to carry it. Nanaha smiles at her.

"You keep chickens?" Nozomi asks, walking up the street with the bag heavy in her arms. "In the city?"

"They don't need much room," Nanaha says. "And... I think it's important. To know where your food comes from. To take responsibility for it."

"To realize that you're killing to survive," Nozomi says. That's the plain version, not civilized to make it sound easier to swallow.

Nanaha looks over at her with a quietly pleased smile. "Exactly."

She lives in an older building on the top floor, and hauling the feed sack up the stairs is good exercise, enough to make Nozomi think she should take up training again. It feels right. The apartment itself is warm and cluttered, with painted walls and colorful fabric hangings dividing up the space. Nozomi feels drab in comparison, but the space suits Nanaha, with her full skirts and draped shawls and the spray of beads and feathers tying up her hair. She turns on lamps and lights incense, then gravitates toward the tiny kitchenette. "There's beer in the fridge," she says. "Grab me one?"

Nozomi is twisting the cap off the second bottle before she realizes she forgot to ask if that meant she could have one too. Well, too late. She hands one of the open bottles to Nanaha, who tips it up and drinks about half the contents without stopping.

"Thanks," she says when she puts it down again. "Are you hungry?"

"Almost always," Nozomi says ruefully. She may not be an Amazon but she's put her body through a lot.

Nanaha nods, like that's what she expected somehow. "There'll be food in a little while," she says, picking up a knife.

"Thank you," Nozomi says. She supposes they've both spent enough time around Amazons to recognize what a big deal food is. "Can I help with anything?" She's pretty hopeless at cooking, but it seems polite to ask.

"It's fine," Nanaha says. She chops vegetables with quick, confident motions before she dumps them into the soup pot. She watches Nozomi take a long drink of beer, then turns back to her cutting board before she asks, "So what are you doing now that you aren't hunting them anymore?"

That question deserves another drink while Nozomi tries to put her thoughts in order. "Nothing, really," she says. "Nothing real."

Nanaha nods. "Do you miss it?"

" _No_ ," Nozomi says vehemently. "Risking my life every day fighting monsters that most people never knew existed? Killing things that used to be people and now think of us as just food? I don't miss that at all."

"But," Nanaha says.

"But I don't know what to do with myself, either." The food already smells delicious. Nozomi takes another swig of beer. "How do you go back after something like this?"

"I'm not sure you can." There's a pan on the second burner and Nanaha adds chunks of meat to it now, hot oil sizzling as it starts to cook. "You know what it costs to be alive, in a way that most people don't."

For a minute they're both quiet. Nozomi picks at the label on her beer bottle. "You look sweet, but you can be pretty harsh, Nanaha."

"I don't like comforting lies," Nanaha says, and for a second she looks like she might cry again. She finishes her beer, and when she puts the bottle down she seems to have her composure back. "That's sort of the problem, I think. The world most people know, it's comforting and familiar, but it's hiding the truth of survival. You can't unsee that truth once you know it's there."

Nozomi swallows hard. "Should I get you another beer?" she asks.

"Please," Nanaha says.

Nozomi finishes her own and gets a second round for both of them. It's already blunting the edges of her agitation, and she's grateful. Nanaha's fingers brush hers when she hands over the fresh bottle, warm softness in contrast with the cold glass. The real question bubbles up in her throat before she can stop herself. "Then how do you keep living?"

Nanaha looks her right in the eyes. "The same way anyone else does," she says. "One kill at a time."

She goes back to her cooking, stirring pieces of chicken and flipping them over. Nozomi watches her, quiet. She wasn't stupid enough to think Nanaha was as soft as she looks—someone that soft wouldn't kill her own food, and definitely wouldn't live with an Amazon-hunting Amazon—but it's still sobering to realize just how much steel there is behind that pretty face.

"The food is ready," Nanaha announces a few minutes later. "Hand me those bowls?"

Nanaha dishes up the food and Nozomi helps carry it to the table. There's barely room, in the way where everything in the apartment seems to be squeezed into not quite enough space. She sits down across from Nanaha and remembers her manners enough to say, "Thank you for the meal," before she reaches for the first morsel.

The food is delicious. It's been a long time since Nozomi had a home-cooked meal, and it seems like everything tastes just a little bit fresher, a little bit brighter than the takeout she's used to. She devours her portion like the monster she isn't, and she doesn't miss the amused look she gets for it.

Afterward she helps with the washing up. There isn't really enough room for two people to do it, so they bang elbows and get in each other's way, but Nanaha seems glad to have the help all the same and Nozomi's surprised how comfortable she feels. It's a little like being back with the team, that same feeling of having somebody in her space but welcome there. It's oddly easy to let Nanaha that close.

No, maybe it's not that odd. Nanaha understands. She's seen the raw, naked hunger that lives underneath the thin skin of civilization. She knows what it really takes to be alive.

And she takes Nozomi's hand when the cleaning up is done, lacing their fingers together. "Do you feel a little better now?"

"A little," Nozomi says. She looks at their hands. Nanaha's thumb is stroking hers. "Did you bring me here to seduce me?"

"No," Nanaha says straightforwardly. "I didn't start thinking about that until after we got here."

Nozomi doesn't pull her hand away. There are a lot of other questions she could ask. She decides not to. Instead she takes a step closer, so there's barely space between them, and squeezes Nanaha's hand in hers.

Nanaha leans in the last few centimeters and kisses her, slow but not hesitant, and Nozomi kisses back. Nanaha tastes like miso and beer at first, and then just like human closeness after that. It's been a very long time since Nozomi got this close to anyone. She stands still and just feels it, the way her skin slowly wakes to the possibility of touch, the way her nerves start to hum with warmth. Nanaha's other arm comes up to drape around her shoulders, holding her close.

Nozomi catches Nanaha's lip between her teeth and tugs gently. Nanaha makes a soft, breathy sound. "Still hungry?"

"Maybe," Nozomi says. "Did you have something else to offer?"

Nanaha smiles and kisses her again, rough and hungry. The press and flicker of her tongue make Nozomi's breath come faster, and she drags her nails over Nozomi's nape hard enough to burn. The pretense of being ordinary peels away and underneath Nozomi is made of raw need, as much as any monster she's ever put down. She bites harder and Nanaha purrs into her mouth.

When trying to press even closer off-balances them and they stumble, Nanaha giggles. "Come to bed?"

"Okay," Nozomi says. 

They undress each other, tossing clothes aside, and that, too, is like letting go of the pretense. An ordinary, respectable woman's clothes don't feel natural to Nozomi anymore; they just hide what she is underneath, muscle and bone, skin and scars. She feels almost self-conscious about the scars, when Nanaha is so sleek and smooth.

But they don't give Nanaha pause. Instead her hands skim over them lightly as she pulls Nozomi down into the nest of blankets and rolls her onto her back. She pins her there, as if the slight weight of her body could be enough to really hold Nozomi down, and leans in to bite at Nozomi's throat.

After everything, that seems like it shouldn't be hot, but it makes Nozomi moan and arch her back, her own short blunt nails raking over Nanaha's bare skin. Nanaha growls, sucking on her mouthful of skin like Nozomi is some kind of delicious treat. She slides a hand up between them to catch a nipple between her fingers and twist, and heat bursts between Nozomi's legs.

"Yes," she gasps out, "more," and Nanaha bites her again, planting a knee squarely between her thighs for her to rock against. She grinds into it as the pain of being bitten—such a little pain, with blunt human teeth—dances along her nerves. When she tangles one hand in Nanaha's hair and pulls, Nanaha croons, high and wordless and sweet.

She's used to an Amazon. She doesn't need to be treated like she might break.

Nozomi rolls them over, dragging Nanaha's head back by the hair and biting her just under the jaw, where her pulse hammers hard beneath the skin. Nanaha sobs, digging her nails into Nozomi's back. She catches a scar and it's almost too much, almost enough to drag this out of sexy territory and into real hurt—but when Nozomi tenses, she stops, running gentle fingertips over the sore spot instead, soothing. She understands.

"Please," Nanaha says, rocking her hips, grinding slick against Nozomi's thigh. Nozomi slips a hand down to part her folds and Nanaha is soaking wet, hot and welcoming. Two of Nozomi's fingers slide into her easily and she moans, arching into the touch. "More," she says. Nozomi presses a third finger in and grinds the heel of her hand against Nanaha's clit. Nanaha writhes.

Nozomi finds her way into a rhythm, rocking her hand, listening to the slick wet sounds Nanaha makes around her fingers. She lowers her head to Nanaha's breasts, catches a nipple between her teeth and pulls, and Nanaha curses breathlessly. It sounds like encouragement, so Nozomi keeps going, feeling the way Nanaha goes tense and shivery underneath her. Her wrist aches with the awkward angle but it's such a little pain, such an unimportant thing when she has Nanaha trembling and clutching at her shoulders like this.

"Nnh—I—" Nanaha's thighs are tense, capturing Nozomi's arm between them. She's panting, little helpless noises escaping her on every breath—and then her climax hits and she's crying out, her back bowed, the walls of her cunt clenching rhythmically around Nozomi's fingers as she rides it out.

She slumps back against the pillows in exhaustion and her smile is so beautiful it takes Nozomi's breath away. Even in a world full of Amazons, and everything that means, there are still moments like this.

When Nanaha catches her breath, she stretches up to kiss Nozomi again, pushing her down onto her back. Nozomi feels alert and alive, needy, her nerves humming almost like she's on a hunt, except that it's _good_. Nanaha kisses a path down her body, peppering her skin with tiny bites, and she squirms, gasping curses.

Nanaha presses her thighs apart and settles between them, leaning down. Her breath is hot against Nozomi's flesh. And then she stops, looking up with a wicked little smile. "Let me hear you."

"Please," Nozomi says immediately, "please, I want your mouth." That gets Nanaha to lick her once, a teasing drag of tongue over Nozomi's clit and then another wicked smile. "More," Nozomi says.

"More?" Nanaha echoes, one eyebrow raised.

Nozomi arches her hips, offering herself up. "More," she says again. "You know what I want. Please." The words stick in her throat, hard to voice for all that they make her ache. Nanaha bites the inside of her thigh, slow and sucking, and the whine that comes out of Nozomi's throat doesn't even feel like it belongs to her. "Nanaha, _please_ , fuck, I want your mouth, want you to, want you to suck me off."

"Oh, is that how you like it?" Nanaha asks. She licks another slow path up through Nozomi's folds and this time she doesn't back off. She wraps her lips around the hood of Nozomi's clit and sucks, her tongue flickering against the trapped flesh. Nozomi howls. It's almost too much to stand, sensation so intense it's nearly pain, and she fists both hands in the sheets just to have something she can hold on to.

Nanaha isn't satisfied with just that, either. She slips a hand up between Nozomi's thighs and teases at the entrance to her cunt with careful, too-gentle fingertips.

"Yes," Nozomi says, "yes," and she tries to rock down to coax Nanaha into her but of course Nanaha won't let her have it that easily.

"Mmmn?" she asks, the vibration of her tongue delicious, the sparkle in her eyes perfectly maddening.

"Put your fingers in me," Nozomi says. Her cheeks burn and her clit aches. "Please, Nanaha, fuck me."

Nanaha moans, and her fingers slip up into Nozomi smooth and easy. The pads of her fingertips drag over a perfect sensitive spot and Nozomi cries out for her, shaking.

"Yes," Nozomi gasps out, "yes, yes, just like that," and she's figured out what Nanaha wants well enough by now to know she needs to keep going: "Fuck me, please, fuck me just like that, it feels so good—"

She's barely coherent, shuddering and moaning, pleading with Nanaha to keep going, to give her more. Nanaha gives her what she begs for, mouth and fingers working her relentlessly until she can't even form words, until she's completely stripped down to bare animal hunger—until she tips over the edge and she's coming like that, her whole body wracked with shudders and all her nerves scoured clean.

Nanaha looks entirely too pleased with herself when she sits up. Nozomi would say something about that if her brain would work, but it doesn't right now, so instead she just lies there smiling back, feeling the little tremors that run through her limbs when she imagines trying to go anywhere.

She does manage to open her arms and reach out, and Nanaha crawls up the bed to curl up against her side. Nozomi holds her, heart still pounding, limbs still shaky. The warmth is nice. The press of skin against skin is comforting.

After a few minutes Nanaha lifts her head for a kiss. Her eyes might be a little too bright but Nozomi doesn't mention it, just kisses back gently, tasting her salt on Nanaha's lips.

"If you're staying, I'll put out the lights," Nanaha says.

"If you're offering, I'd like to stay," Nozomi answers. Her own apartment would feel even more bleak and empty after this, and she'd like to hold on to the feeling of connection while she can.

Nanaha gets up and walks around the apartment turning off the lamps. By the time she's done, she's a shadow moving through other shadows, barely visible as she climbs back into bed. She piles blankets on top of the two of them, a warm weight, and cuddles up to Nozomi's side.

"If I say thank you," Nozomi asks, "does that seem strange?"

Nanaha hums thoughtfully. "I don't think so," she says. 

"It's just good to be, I don't know. Normal again?" Nozomi doesn't think she could have said this with the lights on. "At least for a little while."

"It is," Nanaha agrees. She kisses Nozomi's collar bone. "I'm glad you're here."

The world outside these walls is still terrible. Somewhere, despite everything they've done, there are still probably hundreds of Amazons waiting for their chance to prey on people. And if Nozama can create the Amazons, what else could the world contain?

But all that is outside, and for now it can't hurt them. Tonight they're safe. And tomorrow they'll get up and face what the world can throw at them, one kill at a time.


End file.
